


this ends

by lvsierra



Series: blood and gears [3]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Character Study, FNAF 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22976605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lvsierra/pseuds/lvsierra
Summary: He remembered dying.
Series: blood and gears [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1761391
Comments: 4
Kudos: 75





	this ends

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey  
> I wrote this little something last year. It’s really short and simple and I thought I could try to translate it from french. This is the first time I’m doing this, and sorry for my english, it’s not my first language.  
> I hope you will enjoy it!  
> The characters and the original story are the property of Scott Cawthon.

A voice echoed in the vents, seeming to come from everywhere at once. The words were understandable despite the crackling of the microphone, but the man sitting at the desk had trouble hearing clearly. A familiar voice he didn't think he would hear again.

His head was a thick fog, continuous pain lodged inside his skull and in each of his limbs, even if he was no longer quite sure he could distinguish the real from the tricks his mind was playing on him. A curse that didn't seem like it could have ever an ending. The shadow of an impression of perpetual emptiness. The noise of silence that walked gently in his body, and phantom pains that should not be there.

He became really aware of what was going on but didn't move. Time was moving slow for a moment, and he felt that he had time. Time to escape, if he wanted to. To slide into this vent which could make him leave from this prison of dust and shame. _I have a feeling that you are right where you want to be._

He looked down at his bandaged fingers and everything intensified around him. Sounds and smells, and all the memories that always haunted him. He may not have been a very good kid before, but he hadn't become a better man either. Maybe that was what he deserved, after all, for what he did in the past. A punishment. Prolonged suffering. Madness knocking on his door every second. _Welcome back for another night of intellectual stimulation, pivotal career choices and self-reflection on past mistakes._ Had he finally paid his debts? But it wasn't the end. Just one more sanction. One more hell. How was it even possible for him to be...alive? He hadn't asked himself more questions for years. Since that day, alone on the sidewalk, in the dark. The day he should have died.

He remembered his feelings when he learned for what his father was guilty. No hate, no sadness—only the explanation of so many things and the realization that this man had a very dark side behind the smile. This dark side his son may have had in the corner of his mind too, and the ideas he tried to hide and understand since he could.

He remembered what he had thought before covered all the mirrors in his house. Grey skin and damaged body—sunlight never entered this place again.

He remembered how he felt when he had found an advertisement for a job heavily tied to his past, and realized that he had to find his father and try to fix it all. The consequences of someone who was caught at his own death game, someone who was always a few steps ahead but tripped once.

He never really knew what he wanted. He remembered thinking that death couldn’t be so bad. That's what he had said to himself that night, standing in the scooping room, listening to his sister with something much more cruel, the thing that killed her, whispering to him in a soft and false voice. _The scooper only hurts for a moment._ And today, in this little room in which the ventilation system had just been turned off, full of nothing but regret, anger, and pain, he decided not to move.

He looked up at the little white bear in front of him. Maybe it was his favorite creation. He didn't really know. He thought that this small machine was comforting, in a way. As if, despite everything, he needed this presence, like a toxic and obsessive relationship with the monsters in his head and behind his doors. It was the only thing he ever knew.

_This ends, for all of us._

The heat increased around him and he dropped his head on the desk, lit by a faint light coming from the screen in front of him. He understood what was going to happen, and he felt tired. Then, so, so tired. Even if he didn't wanted to admit it, he knew that if he fell asleep, he wouldn't wake up anymore. But for the first time in a long while, he felt relieved, engulfed in flames.

The game was over. A sordid game with fatal rules that this lonely soul had decided to play. Again and again.

He heard the cries of metal parts and rusty gears losing any pieces of power and hope; but time goes by and life has nothing to do with feelings.

_End communication_. 

And they left nothing but memories and ashes.


End file.
